


L'arte del tè - Golden flower flavored [NEW VERSION]

by JoSebach



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Experimentation, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Headcanon, Missing Moments, Missing Scene, Nightmares, Pre-Canon, Pre-Undertale, Sparring, Spoilers, for once there is hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoSebach/pseuds/JoSebach
Summary: [Revision of the homonym work]His kids died. His wife left. His people survived, somehow.After the sixth SOUL has been harvested, a long-lasted silence dominated the castle. Until two new beacons of hopes and dreams arrived.And the king obliged.
Relationships: Asgore Dreemurr & Alphys, Asgore Dreemurr & Undyne, past Asgore Dreemurr & Toriel, past Chara & Asgore Dreemurr & Asriel Dreemurr & Toriel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ending the year with a revision of the April's work. It was really sketchy and so I decided to rework from there. Hope you'll enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's grieving, haunted by his past.

It's been some time. Asgore didn't know how much, though, the days getting duller and emptier since that sunset and that displaced human body nearby the dust, spreading unknown seeds across the garden. It had been soon found out those were of the same kind of flowers the human body asked to see with their last breath, a kind completely foreign to the Underground.

However, as the first flower bloomed, Asgore realized the human corpse and his wife had disappeared sometime without notice, the coffin left open. «So it's just you and me, son,» he thought, taking care of the plants as if his eyes were not weeping or his hands trembling. Eventually, the garden became his only source of happiness: seeing the flowers spreading all over the field was a sight to behold, as if that corner of the Underground was a slice of the Sun.  
No wonder why Chara was so fond of them.   
No wonder why Asriel brought them there.   
No wonder why those humans stepped over the flowers: they just wanted to destroy _his hopes,_ **_theIR DREAMS―_ **

He froze as the thought bounced between his horns, his gauntlets gripping hard the scarlet trident, ready to be hurled. He uncast the weapon away and forced his horrified eyes to stare at the bright rays, hoping for them to blow up all that hate. It'd never worked, and this time it was no exception: the darkness was eating up the sky, the air getting meaningfully colder, the flowers locking themselves up, ready to restart breathing after the daily fasting. Even his muscles were pleading him some rest. Yes, it was time to call it a day. He left the throne room, his deadpan face stuck on the way home.

As he was climbing the stairs, his eyes met the calendar, still hung on the wall. How long ago was he left to his own devices? How long ago did he kill those six children for freedom's sake, for monsterkind's sake? Have they been some years, few decades or even centuries?  
He was sure of a few things, and one was that the numbers couldn't match the many months spent in utter solitude. He missed everyone and everything terribly, and it wasn't rare he asked himself why it did have to happen to him, what he had done to deserve such pain, if maybe there were actually solutions lying somewhere ready to be found.   
He just knew he couldn't manage this loneliness any longer. And yet he did manage to stand for all this time, chuckling as the thought of falling down was merging from his numb mind. Ahahah. It wasn't funny.

He approached his bedroom, the hallway haunting silent, lifeless. At least the golden flowers gave colour to the environment, right? Not like the water sausages of the Ruins.  
Finally he reached the mattress, the covers freezing, bare and pointless. He lay completely on the king-sized bed, the lack of the Queen making his rest colder and shorter. He stared at the ceiling, almost hoping some stars were going to display his future, but there were none. He stretched the arm on his left. He whimpered her name, as if she was going to appear forgiving him and comforting him and embracing him **―** He chuckled as the image got dissolved by the prying light entering the eyelids. That long-wanted soft warm fur was nowhere to be seen. He sure was a fool to even believe she could go against her own principles. She had integrity, unlike him.   
Maybe it was for the best: he would've never wanted her involvement in such a bloody mission but, golly, he couldn't hide all his hurt. After all... whom had he to hide it from?   
Oh, he missed her. He missed her so much, her integrity, her justice, her stillness. Everyone in the Underground had known by then that, despite his big frame, _she_ was the support of the king, the brains behind the throne, being his great advisor and closest confidant regarding the management of the kingdom; no matter the issue she was always there, ready to listen and understand and give a piece of her mind. She wasn't the person who sugarcoated the problem: if a punishment was needed, she made sure of making herself clear enough.   
And yet, despite everything, she was still his passionate wife, his family. So lovely to not have problems kissing him or giving him names in public, let alone in the privacy of their bedroom, her smiles the brightest, her caresses the softest, her kisses the sweetest.   
She was so passionate about what she found even the slightest interest in that her knowledge knew no borders, allowing her to teach her own children the wonders of the world, going in-depth the subjects and yet still leaving some breath for jokes and puns. Holy Angel, the puns… Right, hers weren't the best, a few of them were even preposterous, but he couldn't refrain himself from smiling and laughing at them. It wasn't for pity. It wasn't for making fun of her, either. Golly, it wasn't for her desperate desire to hear enjoyment at her words. It was just thanks to her perfect voice, completely suitable for any word, they were gold-plated by her mouth.   
The same mouth that refused to smile at him last, the same voice that refused to reason with him last, matching with that utterly _disgusted_ glance she'd sent him before leaving forever. No wonder she felt betrayed: he too was beside himself and, because of that, _the die was cast_ . Too bad it was just one: even with the best luck, the outcome would illude them all with vain hopes of freedom. And he already reached that cursed number, six, long ago, only the Angel knows when. He bitterly snickered, remembering _that_ speech so full of grief, sorrow and fury, so much ephemeral, unreliable fury, pure fury that died as the consequences of his task presented themselves. But how else could have he been able to soothe everyone's aching SOULs?! It wasn’t anyone’s deaths: they were the future of humans and monsters, they were the kingdom’s monarchs, they were their children.

… They were just children. Mirthy, innocent and kind children, always ready to lift even the heaviest of the spirits, no matter their own mood. They just loved everyone so much, and their friendship was one of the rarest. No wonder when Chara’s illness took them Asriel’s faithful SOUL fused together with theirs. Just for obliging to their wish. Just for showing them the flowers. And he _had_ to die! Because he wanted to place his sibling below the sunlight and honor them and let them rest in peace―   
A peace soon shattered in dust on grass. When they found their son laying on the garden, barely keeping himself together with a weak smile, Asgore’s SOUL instantly plummeted below the same Underground, where monsterkind’s long wished dream reached its end. Chara was gone. Asriel is gone. And then even Toriel left by herself disgusted― But how else was he supposed to react?! After everything the humans did to the monsters and to Chara, after taking from them all the pleasure of seeing the sky, the stars, the peace of living in freedom, he couldn’t let this slip, not anymore. The growing hopelessness was impossible to soothe if not with a promise of freedom, no matter how impossible it could have sounded. And, besides… weren’t the humans just looking for it?

He tensed, realizing tears were flowing on the cheeks. He sat on the corner of the whole bed, of the entire room, where all the hope that was left was gathered. He wept, covering his eyes with the same paws that once had embraced his children. The same paws that were going to brandish the scarlet trident and claim the last SOUL that was keeping them all away from freedom.

The eyes of _those_ innocent youths were tormenting him… _«I know you! I saw you in the plaza, I remember those horns―»_ Kids… Oblivious kids…   
There is no war with no victims.

He stood up, trying to focus on the dark path for the kitchen, walking through the living room, the armchair a stop for the shadows projected by the windows. The chimney was off, a grey swarm danced in the wind. His foot placed mindlessly on the dark floor, it wasn't like he could've stepped on some toys left behind by the kids…

Shadows were casting unknown frames. An intruder.  
He snapped, the flames in his paws ready to extinguish the foe, eyes finding themselves gazing at the nothingness. Nobody was behind him anymore, or at all. Good, whatever.

He entered the kitchen, the buzzing light bulb blinding him for an instant, then overwhelmed by a bitter smell. Oh right, the pies.  
He remembered all his attempts, as well as the far-everyday-life children’s hearty laughs, amused by his sorry face at the ruined pastry, and they sort of made him smile.   
Despite all his attention and dedication in following Toriel’s tutorial of the art of pastry-making, he hadn't yet found out what's the secret behind those dough.   
He tried using the same ingredients: that buttercups' pie was toxic and kicked him out for a few days, but otherwise it would've been pretty good, right? Well, preparing a butterscotch-cinnamon pie was too soon, but another delicacy like a snail pie? He had tried following the recipe perfectly, even going back to Waterfall in order to find that farm Toriel had always frequented. The results were a mixture impossible to describe, analyse. His stomach had rejected it all as he’d taken the first bit. No, no sign of buttercups… And it was supposed to be a snail pie, eheh, ironic, isn’t it?   
But… the fire, of course! She had always used that in order to warm up the oven. All its insides got burned.  
What about the shape? That wasn’t the exact same! He had even tried using the same templates she'd preferred, the perfectly-round tray. Still nothing. It didn't matter the efforts and tries and will, the pastry was too raw or burnt, bitter or of a sickening saccharine taste.  
Maybe… another ingredient he was unaware about?   
But the smell coming from the bin reminded his stomach that this wasn't a good idea.   
He shoved off the apprehension, too exhausted to try to prepare more unwanted organic trash. Just drop it.

He grabbed the kettle and filled it with cold water. The sudden movements spilt some drops, merely watering his exposed fur, but not sparing him from the dirt and the petals. He placed the pot on the fire, preparing himself for the deafening yet familiar scream of the boiling water.  
He approached the counter, several teacups of different shapes exposed. He smiled at seeing them, a _memento mori_ of who left long ago. He used watching the singular clay forms, remembering how the star cup had always been ready to be filled with boiling water, his brim shining at each sip, or how the yellow flowered one avoided tea and preferred instead a darker, denser and sweeter liquid, or else the white and round one that had opted for coffee.

The yell didn't make itself wait, fast at increasing in volume. He hurried and took the pot away from the heat. He served himself taking a home-made bag of golden flowers. He checked for a cup to use. His eyes fell on the blank deformed teacup, the surface labelling the childish writing _happy-bday-king-dad_ . He stared at that last cup.   
It was a family tradition of his to exchange teacups as a special family present, so he was the one to prepare the most suitable teacup, pouring his SOUL in crafting it. That one still had their beaming smiles meant just for him.

He filled an ordinary cup instead. He sipped the glowing steaming liquid. It burned down all the throat, but it was a reminder of the consequences he had to face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She appeared, seeking LOVE.

Despite the pungent warmth of the tea, he felt his eyelids getting heavier. It was no surprise: he was no more welcoming with slumber as rest was no more pleasant with him. It was a deal signed a long time ago.   
As his wont, he let himself finish the drink adding some biscuits in the humble meal, in order to get some more magic to integrate in his body, other than have something to pleasantly chew and taste.   
Cleaning up after himself, he started tidying all the house up, the only chore sweeping the few lonely grains of ash away. He did it with his bare hands, not having anything fur-like tool that could’ve been more practical. Not that he cared getting dirty with ambiental dust, or anything at all. Not that anyone was there to complain, not in a long time at least. And besides, none of the humans cared any less of some grain of dust in the corner of the house, so why must he waste time there when there are by far more important matters to deal with, like poverty, overpopulation and the increasing number of fallen down, you ungrateful―

Frigid splashes matted his face, his hands trembling from the temperature. He gained control of his thoughts, realizing he was again in the kitchen, the tap still flowing undisturbed, there to remind his ears time was working. He was back to reality. He was alive. He was alone. Maybe it was going to last forever. He both hoped and feared it, the future confusing, wishes unknown to their owner. But do they matter, anyway? It wasn’t like he had a choice, having sacrificed it for his people. Not that it helped. Whatever, this won’t change the fact he must keep his promise, their dream, which required extensive patience. Humans were really slow to come.

Yes, he had to wait. And why not try to get himself occupied in the waiting? Well, that’s what he’s doing, especially while tending to the flowers, which he was about to do right then: in fact, he was already climbing down the stairs, used to do the same dance over and over again, and the next moment he looked, warmth was calming him. He approached the land, taking care of the golden flowers in anything, gathering all the bugs that were annoying their sedentary life and letting the sun activate the photosynthesis incredible conundrum.   
If the flowers were conscious, he swore they would laugh at his mushy niceness.   
If they were his children, he knew they would be raised as spoiled brats, demanding more and more games, comforts and privileges.   
What a terrible parent he was.

He eyed the few leftovers of the dust, still around that first flower, its odd five-plus-one petals crowning the pale disk florets. He wished for… nothing. It didn't matter.   
He took away the nearby spoiled weed threatening life to the gold, mechanical actions moving his numb body.

And someone killed the blank noise. «Where are YOU, king?» the voice roared. It was unknown, high-pitched. A child's.

He wished it was only a delusion, just like yesterday, just like the days before, just like always. But that aura was there, powerful, irreplaceable, unmistakable, determined. The end was approaching. Dread was haunting his lungs more and more at each step clashing against a woody floor. It’s from upstairs. They were still exploring the empty building.

An amused snicker filled the void, fearing nothing in its wake. «Scared of me? Oh, I know, I bet you are! You’re shaking so hard, aren’t you? And I bet your covers are wet now.» Not-so-furtive footsteps followed, meant to be heard by the SOUL. Then they stopped. «SHOW YOURSELF!» and a wood board cried, shoved against a wall. More silence stained the air, making them escape an impatient grunt. «Is this hide and seek? Are you kidding me?!» They didn't wait for an answer. «Fine! Well, I'll find you eventually!» The source of the mockery was still upstairs, and they had to walk through the long hallway, then enter the grey hall.

He had enough time to prepare himself. He summoned the red trident, the hands wimpy, his back toward the only access. Dry red began to reappear on the ruined gold, then spotted all over his fur. Blood. Child's blood. The Adam’s apple rose, stuck in place, like his frozen fingers.

«Oh, come on! Have some guts and fight me!»

The grip held stronger, confident, shooing away all the apprehension and second thoughts and… and hypocrisy. He’d already done it six times. He had done them all, despite his regrets. It shouldn’t be an issue doing it again by now. Indeed, rethinking was stupid. There was no going back.

«I’m done playing your games! You better show up, or else…!»

The trident was almost ready to split in dust. Calm, think of it like… a visit to the dentist, yes!

«You think  _ this _ can stop me?!» metal rings resonated on the floor, exploding with a loud clang. «Try again.»

A visit to the dentist… just a visit to the dentist… Then they’ll all be free… Then he will… he will do what?

«Hiding yourself in the basement? And you believe you are that smart?» They were no more so distant.

How will the humans react? Will even diplomacy be on the table? Why even consider that, it hadn’t worked a million years back, when they were on good terms, let alone after killing six– Angel, no! Seven! Seven children, dead! And they’re merely a prelude to an inevitable genocide! How many else there will be on the Surface– Millions? Billions?

«Because that thing wouldn’t even stop a toddler.» Louder steps followed. «You think so less of everyone that they’re not worth your attention?»

… Will he be able– capable of doing it all by himself?

«Or is it fear?»

A loud gulp ambushed his breath, surfacing and sinking in his throat, destabilizing his mind completely.

«Are you  _ really  _ that scared of humans, of me?»

Not of them. Of himself, of the future, of the consequences.   
He wasn’t ready.

The foot stopped.

He could feel the exasperated but excited smile staring at his back, sadistic like a hunter’s to the prey, confident like a hero’s to the foe.

They laughed even more, his cape a weak shelter for his uneasiness. «Yeah, ya really are scared the heck out of me.»

He hugged himself tightly. Keep yourself together, this is the last one, dammit, and then he’ll make suRE TO MAKE THEM ALL PAY FOR THEIR WRONGDOINGS–   
The shivers weren’t going to stop, neither the fear and the guilt. He just wanted all this to end, tell them to go away, to somehow go back to the Surface and never come back–   
The shivers couldn’t stop, no matter what.

The voice wasn’t helping, assertive, aggressive, smirking in delight, tasting all his twisting from the deepest. «Scared, even after killing six humans in cold blood, ahah. You’re a joke.»

It wasn’t the first time he heard it, the younger and judging voice yelling the accusation all those many years ago.  _ «Scared, even after killing two children with no mercy. You’re a scam.» _   
His head stayed thoughtless, the mouth left open by thin air, the eyes lost in the green and gold and old red on his feet. There shouldn’t be so much blinding light, where is the darkness, the dream, the nightmare? And yet, despite anything, it was as real as it was and, despite denying it, he could feel it, making him pray it was just his head being better and better in tricking him. Was this madness?

«No last words? Well, at least you’re not a coward. This is a challenge, for once!» They were so pleased with the vision. «And besides, it’s not like they are useful in any way!»

Wait– Isn’t that saying from Gerson– What– Who aRE THEY–

They gazed inside his SOUL. The fight started.

He HAD to turn, he HAD to move, he HAD to see them. He tried everything, anything, but it was impossible, his big foot planted on the ground with the flowers. His SOUL was green.   
What– How, they’ve never used  _ this _ magic–

«Get ready, because now you have to face me,»

Oh no.

«the Undying,»

No!

«the strongest monster of the Underground!»

No– wait WHAT—

They leaped from the ground, whatever they were delivering to him pointing toward his skull, ready to knock him dead, ready to end it all.

The instant was milking in his mind, the brain too fast or slow or hungry or tired processing, the fatigue and dread making it even heavier for his SOUL. He couldn’t understand what was happening anymore, everything melting like the dissolving weapon. This was just a terrible mistake that he had to shed some light on.   
He stretched on the right, the senses coming back as the swing hissed in his ears.

The pair of boots crashed against the grass instantly, rolling all over the green. A couple of pants rose from the behind-small frame. They were holding a crumbling wretched quarterstaff. «Good reflexes, not gonna lie.» They turned around, spreading further the devastation on the ground. «You’re not an easy enemy.» The voice was delighted, bittersweet for his ears. «I LOVE challenges!»

He snapped the head up, seeing it in the eyes. It was a kid, like he could've figured out by the voice, but there was no white sclera, replaced with a sharp yellow, fangs of the same colour edged out of the mouth, the scales were of a pale blue.   
This chi― this young MONSTER was just antagonizing him!   
His SOUL was cold like those times he’d rather forget, he was shaking for as much as he could with the spell and the armor. What was he even thinking? What was he daring to do?!

They were even more amused at the scene. «Scared of me, old man? At least you don’t just see me as a cocky rascal.» They ran toward his left hip.

He dodged on his right. He noted they avoided that side, must've been due to the left eye, which was closed all the time.

«Not bad, but what about this?!» They let out an exhausted and mild satisfied grunt, delivering several other blows in retaliation.

He made sure to evade them all, the trident still close on his chest. But it didn’t need too much effort, since the attacks grew more and more predictable. The one-sided fight kept going for several minutes.

The child finally gasped for air, hands in the knees, back arched toward the soil. Sweat was covering the brow, irritating the left squinting eye. Drops fell on the grass, the pressed flowers weren't screaming for pain. «D–don’t think you can get away with this! Next time make sure to get your tongue back!»

Before he could've talked to them they fled. He forgot he could move again until it was too late.

* * *

Darkness cursed him once again, but the lack of sleep was being unbearable to his body. He was no longer aging but he felt many centuries older. He didn't know if he reached the mattress or if he let himself go on the floor. Not that he cared at all, not that anyone was going to question him.

But there she was. The whiteness of her fur was blinding him among this blackness. He smiled at seeing her: she was the only one who could've helped him—

That frown said otherwise. He was such a fool to believe such a clear dream.

«Asgore Dreemurr.» Her lips weren't moving an inch, her look was enough. That disappointment was going to kill him soon or later. «I was already disgusted by you, being capable of dragging your people and of killing an innocent child for your folly. I was so foolish wishing to have children with you. If I'd known before, I would've reconsidered my position as mother. But then you wanted to rip a poor monster's SOUL, no less. Ahahah…» The pun-laugh was improper to the moment, her tears stabbing him, like deadly acid rain on the then sterile soil.

«I…» but the words died in his lips.

«A child, a killing which could've been avoidable, pointless. A damage to our own people.» She continued. «If you are like this… YOU WOULD'VE EVEN KILLED OUR CHILDREN IF IT HAD BEEN FOR THEIR SOULS.»

«Noooo!» Dark and light again, sweat covered the fur, the fibres of the carpet stinging his skin. He felt almost like his face was about to melt by the commotion. Stupid he was to even believe it, to even try to question her, an image of his mind.

No, he couldn't afford killing another person. He had to ask help.   
He stood up, legs aching at his broken weight.   
He rested but he was not rested, it was just pointless pain. Just like always.


End file.
